…all of us are instruments recording the heart, playing its jealous and beautiful sounds, the mirror breaking and shattering past our tongues when the fire burns our skins. — Diane Wakoski, from “The Mirror of a Day Chiming Marigold,” Dancing on the Grave of a Son of a Bitch. (Black Sparrow Press,U.S.; New edition edition… Continue reading Diane Wakoski
There is this cave In the air behind my body That nobody is going to touch: A cloister, a silence Closing around a blossom of fire. When I stand upright in the wind, My bones turn to dark emeralds. – James Wright, “The Jewel,” The Branch Will Not Break. (Wesleyan University Press; 1st edition May… Continue reading James Wright
Something of light falls, pitiful and kind. Something of love forgot the dark embrace Of evening, where the lover’s eyes go blind With dreaming on the hollows of your face. — James Wright, from “A Girl Walking into a Shadow,” Collected Poems (Wesleyan University Press, 1971)
This time, I have left my body behind me, crying In its dark thorns. Still, There are good things in this world. It is dusk. It is the good darkness Of women’s hands that touch loaves. The spirit of a tree begins to move. I touch leaves. I close my eyes and think of water.… Continue reading James Wright
The Vale of Soul-Making 